Chapter 9 - The Syndicate's Wrath
The sun fully set, plunging the city into darkness.
The old warehouse on 5th Street was quiet, except for the sound of Russo—a sleazy, arrogant criminal—counting stacks of dirty cash at a folding table.
Suddenly, the heavy metal doors of the warehouse were violently blown off their hinges.
Before Russo could even reach for his weapon, the entire building was swarmed by a dozen elite, heavily armed enforcers. They didn't shout. They didn't ask questions. They moved with terrifying, lethal precision.
Vincent walked slowly through the smoke and dust, his dark suit perfectly crisp.
Russo was violently shoved to his knees, his hands zip-tied behind his back.
"Vincent!" Russo choked out, sweating profusely. "What is this?! We have a truce!"
"You broke the truce when you brought children into my city," Vincent stated flawlessly, completely devoid of human empathy for the monster.
Vincent didn't pull a gun. He didn't need to. He simply looked down at Russo with absolute, unadulterated disgust.
"Strip his accounts," Vincent ordered his men. "Donate every single dollar to the pediatric hospital anonymously. Then, hand him over to the federal authorities with a bow on top. Include all the evidence. Let him rot in a federal cage for the rest of his pathetic life."
"No! Please!" Russo wailed pathetically as the enforcers dragged him away.
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Vincent turned his back on the screaming coward. He had a sandwich to deliver.
👉 What incredible, emotional future awaits the two children one year later?
